


Whose Woods These Are

by sleepypercy



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: AU, Accidental Voyeurism, M/M, Nudity, Plot, Sexual thoughts, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-03
Updated: 2013-11-03
Packaged: 2017-12-31 08:45:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1029680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepypercy/pseuds/sleepypercy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's a wild beast in Jensen's woods. His name is Jared. (On-going story. Will have multiple chapters)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whose Woods These Are

**Author's Note:**

> Much love to [cosmonaught](http://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmonaught) for the beta <3  
> This story is based on the amazing short story [Gabriel-Earnest](http://www.readbookonline.net/readOnLine/772/) by Saki. It starts out pretty close to the story plot but then veers away near the end and will continue in a slightly different direction.

“There’s a wild beast in your woods,” Misha told Jensen as he unlatched the front door and pushed it open, wrinkling his nose at the musty smell sweeping out of the cabin.  
  
Frowning in confusion, Jensen started to ask what he meant, but Misha had already gone inside, opening windows and airing out the various rooms, all the while waving off Jensen’s hesitant offers to help.  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” Misha replied unconcernedly with one of his strange smiles as he opened the valve to fill the water heater. “This is what your aunt overpays me for. Besides, you’ve got more luggage than a 21-year old starlet sitting in your trunk. By the time you get all your make-up kits and silk dresses inside, I’ll already be done.”  
  
Jensen rolled his eyes and thought about pointing out that his canvases and easels and art gear were hardly the luggage of a club-hopping socialite, but he bit his tongue and decided that trying to impose logic on Misha’s mad-hatter silliness never ended well.  
  
When everything was unpacked and Misha had finished getting the house ready for occupancy, Jensen stopped Misha in the doorway to ask what he’d meant about the beast in the woods. “Do I need to worry about bears?” Jensen asked worriedly.  
  
“Oh no,” Misha answered with a quick shake of his head. “Those never come this far south. It was probably just my imagination anyway; don’t worry about it. I’ll see you tomorrow after I pick up Colin from the airport.”  
  
And before Jensen could think to ask anything more, Misha was already in his car, waving at Jensen through the window and speeding down the long dirt road.  
  
*&*  
                                                                                                                                                                                     
There was a small pathway in the backyard of his aunt’s cabin that snaked through the trees and led to a large, clear pond lined with soft marsh grass and tall cattails. It was one of Jensen’s favorite places, and he’d practically lived in that pond during the summers he’d visited with his family. After unpacking exactly one-and-a-half boxes, Jensen looked out the window (at bright blue skies and too-green-to-be-real grasses and trees) and decided that he couldn’t stay inside for one more second.  
  
Trees covered most of the area on the west side of the pond in dappled shade, but Jensen’s eyes were immediately drawn to the opposite bank. Lying on a smooth, sun-baked rock overhanging a deep section of water was a long male body, his naked skin glowing as it soaked in bright sunlight. As a surprised breath of air hissed in through Jensen’s teeth, the young man’s arms reached above his head in a luxurious, bone-popping stretch while he arched his back and lithely flipped his torso, offering his golden belly up to the blue sky.  
  
Jensen’s fingers twitched, overwhelmed with the need to capture those beautiful, smooth lines in charcoal or soft lead. Just below the indent of the stranger’s belly button ran a jagged line of soft hair that lead all the way to the boy’s soft cock, and Jensen gulped back a response he refused to name as his eyes took in all the perfect angles and curves, storing it all in his mind for later when he’d try to replicate his perfect body on paper.  
  
After a few minutes, however, the realization that this stranger was trespassing finally made its way through the haze of Jensen’s mind, and he tried to calm himself down with that stern reminder. This wasn’t his property, and his aunt would be less than pleased to have strangers wandering through her land.  
  
Jensen crossed the short distance between them to stand at the boy’s feet, clearing his throat when the stranger continued to doze quietly. Slowly, the boy’s lids cracked opened in lazy watchfulness as he blinked the drowsiness out of eyes that would have seemed natural on a tiger—the irises a dangerous gold-green combination set inside slanted lids.  
  
“What are you doing here?” Jensen demanded unsteadily.  
  
“Sunning myself,” the teenager replied with a small, amused smirk, his large hands moving down to scratch at his bare belly, apparently not the least bit shy about being found trespassing in the nude. “Obviously.”  
  
“This is private property. It belongs to my aunt, and you're trespassing."   
The boy laughed, and Jensen tried not to flush at how young and untamed a thing this stranger seemed—there was no way he could be much older than sixteen. With a quick shake of his head, wet droplets fell from the tousles of the boy’s hair and into his eyes, and the stranger smiled, letting dimples cut into his cheeks.  “Your aunt owns the woods?"   
"It's been in her family for several generations," Jensen answered, wondering why he was bothering to explain himself to a stranger.   
"Well, I live in the woods. So I guess your family owns me too."   
“You can’t live in the woods,” Jensen said stubbornly. "It's not safe."   
Something predatory crept into the young man’s slanted eyes, and he grinned sharply as he answered: “It's safe enough for me. It's only dangerous for rabbits and chickens. Or small children - but they're usually locked up too well at night for me to get at."   
Jensen frowned darkly at the boy’s answer, starting to get pissed off at all the silly answers. “You can’t stay in these woods.”  
  
“I don’t think you want me in your home,” came the languid, smart-ass answer.  
  
Growling under his breath, Jensen stepped forward. "Get out of here before I call the police."   
The words had barely left his mouth when the young man slipped off the rock and dove into the pond, his long body slicing through the water with hardly a ripple and startling Jensen so thoroughly that he jumped back, feet slipping in the mud, and found himself lying prostrate on the weed-grown bank.  
  
The boy’s head peeked above the water at that point, and he laughed again—the sound a strange, dissonant mixture of chuckle and snarl—as he jumped out of the water and landed next to Jensen, feet and hands softening his landing as the wild boy stayed on all fours.  
  
For a moment, Jensen had a strange vision of the boy tearing into his shoulder, blood spurting into the boy’s mouth from opened arteries as he consumed Jensen enthusiastically. But the young man only leaned in, placing his nose against the collar of Jensen’s neck and breathing in deeply while a rumble echoed from his chest. Jensen stayed very, very still, and—to his embarrassment—felt his cock stir at the ghosting feel of the boy’s inhalations drawing the scent off Jensen’s skin. But then, in another lightning-quick movement, the boy jumped away, dove back into the water, and Jensen was alone on the bank, his body mud-covered and flushed.  
  
*&*  
  
Misha came back the next day to drop off Colin, who grunted a quick, unenthusiastic “hey” at Jensen before heading straight to his room and shutting himself inside. Since the boy had thoughtfully left his duffle bag inside the trunk, Jensen followed Misha out to the car to grab it.  
  
“Well, isn’t he just a ray of sunshine,” Misha commented ironically as he tossed the duffle bag Jensen’s way. Grinning, he added, “I don’t envy you being locked up in a cabin with a sullen teenager for the summer. Give me a call if you need someone to come over and hide all the knives.”  
  
“I’m sure he’s not that bad,” Jensen answered, although he couldn’t claim to know all that much about his 14-year old cousin. “He might be a little moody, but I doubt he’s going to kill me in my sleep.”  
  
Chuckling, Misha replied, “I meant hiding them from _you_. But if you’re lucky, maybe he’ll get himself lost in the woods and have to camp out for a few days. Although sad to say, we’ve already had a couple of children go missing this summer. They think one of ‘em might’ve drowned in the river behind the Miller’s place. They’re still combing the woods for the other.”  
  
Jensen’s thoughts immediately jumped to the boy he’d seen by the pond, and he swallowed back some unclear anxiety as he quickly asked, “What kind of children? How old?”  
  
“Both little boys—the first one was six, the other’s eight,” Misha replied, giving Jensen a curious look and asking: “Why?”  
  
“Just wondering.” For some reason, Jensen didn’t really want to talk about the teenager he’d seen on his aunt’s land, and he wasn’t sure he could fully explain the encounter without Misha’s strangely acute senses picking up on Jensen’s less-than-appropriate reactions. Thankfully, Misha didn’t seem to notice Jensen’s nervous energy and, after Jensen promised to keep an eye out for any lost boys in the woods, gave Jensen a small grin and wished him good luck before taking off.  
  
* &*  
  
Colin stayed in his room all the way until dinner time when he flung his door open and walked with heavy, not- _quite_ -stomping feet to the kitchen table. After heaving himself into a chair, he crossed his arms on top of the table and laid his chin down on top, clearly unimpressed with the whole situation.  
  
“Hungry?” Jensen questioned as he put down a pot of macaroni and cheese and shoved a bowl Colin’s way. Without answering, Colin pulled the warm pot his way and scooped himself several large spoonfuls of rehydrated pasta mixed with powdered cheese. Jensen breathed out a sigh of relief at that. He’d half-expected his cousin to go on some sort of hunger strike in protest over being forced to spend his summer here. But apparently teenage hunger overruled Gandhi-protest methods.  
  
“I’m making a food run tomorrow,” Jensen said as he filled his own bowl. “Want me to get you anything?”  
  
Colin grunted and shrugged his shoulders, but after a couple minutes of silence, he looked up at Jensen through wispy strands of hair, frown still in place as he asked: “Can I go with you?”  
  
“Yeah.” Jensen shrugged and picked up his fork. “I’m leaving in the morning, though, so you’ve gotta be up at a decent hour.”  
  
“Like there’s anything to do at night here anyway,” Colin mumbled back. “It’s a miracle this place even has indoor plumbing.”  
  
Jensen chuckled at the kid’s reply—he couldn’t really disagree with his assessment—and when Colin squinted up at him, unsure whether or not Jensen was laughing _at_ him, Jensen just shrugged. Jensen’s aunt—Colin’s mom—liked to keep the cabin as authentic as possible; refused to buy a TV or anything too modern that would detract from the “rustic charm.” The main bathroom still had the claw-foot tub that had been put in fifty years ago when the place was originally built, and the only true modernization in the kitchen was an ancient, turn-dial microwave that had held up surprisingly well over the years.  
  
Colin didn’t say anything more, and when they finished their silent meal, the kid trudged back to his room. Jensen hoped Colin had been smart enough to smuggle a Game Boy or something into his things; cabin fever was not something Jensen wanted to deal with. All he’d wanted this summer was time and space to get away from everything so he could figure out what the hell he was doing with his life. And babysitting a sullen, resentful 14-year old kid probably wasn’t going to help Jensen figure out why he was such a failure.  
  
* &*  
  
The trip to town was uneventful—not that Jensen expected otherwise in a town with just one grocery store. Jensen guessed at Colin’s tastes and filled his cart with whatever fruits and vegetables seemed decently appetizing for a teenage boy, along with plenty of microwaveable meals. Then he grabbed his cousin from where he’d been staring contemplatively at the Missing Children posters by the front and they headed back to the cabin.  
  
When Jensen elbowed open the door, his arms laden with groceries, he was startled to find someone already inside. He immediately stepped back in front of the door, shielding his younger cousin from the intruder. But when inhumanly bright eyes glanced his way, Jensen could feel his pulse accelerate as he realized that he recognized the trespasser. Sitting long-ways across the large armchair, feet swinging over the side, was the wild boy from the pond. When he saw Jensen, he smiled—the motion causing something hot to start twisting inside Jensen’s gut—and Jensen struggled to remember how to speak, his mind going blank as the boy’s smile grew dark and knowing.  
  
“What the hell?” Colin complained with a huff from behind him, trying to push past his older cousin and effectively breaking Jensen from his trance. “ _C’mon_ Uncle Jensen. Lemme in.”  
  
“Uh…” Jensen adjusted his hold on the groceries in his arms to keep them from spilling as Colin managed to find a crack of space to force himself through. “Uh, just—I think we have a guest,” Jensen nervously announced.  
  
“What?” Colin threw Jensen a well-practiced teenage look of scorn before he caught sight of the stranger and froze in place. “A… _naked_ guest?” Colin asked, his voice squeaking a little.  
  
A strange, enthusiastic expression brightened the feral boy’s face as he caught sight of Jensen’s young cousin, and if Jensen’s arms hadn’t been full of groceries, he might have grabbed onto Colin to hide him behind his body and out of sight from those ravenous eyes.  
  
The stranger jumped to his feet. It was the first time Jensen had seen him standing, and he was jarred to find himself tipping his head _up_ as the kid moved closer—not something Jensen was used to doing. The boy was a giant, and his limbs moved in a way that made Jensen think of the forest again; caused images of predatory animals with iridescent eyes to creep through his mind.  
  
“Who are you?” the wild thing asked in a low, curious voice as he stood in front of Jensen’s cousin. Colin’s eyes flicked to Jensen’s just once before his jaw tightened in annoyance.  
  
“Who are _you_?” Colin shot back with a frown. “And why the fuck are you _naked_?”  
  
“I’m Jared,” the boy replied, lips curling back to reveal bright white teeth. “And I’m naked because I want to be.”  
  
Then—as Colin’s eyes grew wide—Jared reached out to grab Colin’s upper arms, leaning in and closing his eyes as he breathed into the long line of Colin’s neck. As Jared moved his head back, he looked over his shoulder to shoot Jensen an amused look.  
  
“You’re kin,” he said to Jensen, fingers tightening to create small indents in Colin’s soft limbs.  
  
When Jensen saw the uncertainty crossing his young cousin’s face, he hurriedly dropped the restricting groceries in his hand, strode over to the pair, and wrenched Colin away from the newly-named stranger.  
  
“You broke into my aunt’s cabin,” he growled, slotting himself in between Colin and Jared. “Why?”  
  
“You told me you didn’t want me in the woods,” Jared answered, undaunted by Jensen’s obvious anger. He shot a smirk somewhere behind Jensen where he suspected Colin was peering around his body. Jensen was still trying to figure out how to answer Jared’s ridiculous justification when Colin shoved at his back again and announced:  
  
“ _Hey_. I’ve seen him before.”  
  
Jensen twisted around to shoot his cousin an incredulous look and demanded, “When?”  
  
Instead of answering, Colin backed up and walked towards the desk just to the left of the front door, rooting inside the drawers before pulling out a sketchbook. Jensen recognized it immediately and felt a flush come to his cheeks as he hoped this wasn’t something his young cousin planned on bringing up to his mother.  
  
When Colin came closer, he’d already flipped through the pages until he came to what was thankfully the least explicit of the mini-devotion to Jared. The opened page was a simple pencil-sketch of Jared treading water, his wet hair curling around his face and his naked shoulders bobbing above the surface of the pond. Jensen had thought he’d done a good job at catching the mischievous tilt of the boy’s eyes in this one, that dizzying cocktail mixture of laughter and hunger, and he glanced over at Jared to see his reaction.  
  
The boy’s face was shocked; eyes fascinated by his own image.  
  
“That’s me.” He looked at Jensen as if to get that confirmation and Jensen inclined his head in a small nod. As Jared studied the sketch, candle-flickering eyes stretched wide, he suddenly seemed a lot less intimidating, and Jensen was abruptly aware that this was a teenage boy standing in front of him and not a savage animal. He began to doubt his initial reaction, wondering if his inappropriate lust had caused him to overreact just a little. Perhaps the boy had just been lost in the forest for too long and just needed a proper meal and a set of clothes to bring him back to civilization.  
  
Jensen took the sketchbook out of Colin’s hands and shot his cousin what he hoped was a firm, inarguable look. “Would you please put away the groceries?” he asked. Colin considered Jensen’s request for a minute, shooting Jared a few thoughtful looks before he shrugged and picked up the bags, taking them into the kitchen.  
  
Meanwhile, Jensen directed Jared back over to the couch, handing the young boy the sketchbook after Jared had turned some rather impressive puppy-dogs eyes on him, and taking a seat next to him while Jared went through all the pages featuring him in different poses and scenes. Jensen kept his fingers crossed that Jared wouldn’t find the sketches tucked away in the very back of the book.  
  
“Where are your parents?” Jensen asked the boy quietly.  
  
“I don’t know,” Jared answered indifferently as his long fingers kept turning pages in the sketchbook. “I left them behind as soon as I was fully grown.”  
  
“You can’t be more than sixteen,” Jensen pointed out skeptically, more than a little concerned. A small sound huffed from Jared’s nose, and he threw a quick grin Jensen’s way.  
  
“I’m old enough,” he answered evasively, and that was when Jensen made the decision to persuade Jared to stay—that is, if the boy hadn’t already made that assumption. Jensen couldn’t kick the boy back out into the woods—if that’s where he was really staying. Despite what the boy had said, Jensen was fairly certain he was underage, and there was a good chance that he was a runaway. The police would have to be contacted. And there was no way that someone as beautiful as Jared wouldn’t have someone looking for him.  
  
Jensen tried asking Jared more questions about how he came to be here, but Jared soon got tired of all the talking and announced that he was going out—but promised to return before dark.  
  
“You sleep during the night?” Jared questioned as he started for the door.  
  
“Ye- _es_ ,” Jensen answered somewhat uncertainly.  
  
“I’ll be back before then,” Jared replied with a wry smile.  
  
And before Jensen could blink, Jared sprang out the door and was halfway into the woods. But he came back—just a promised—at sunset, although when Jensen offered him leftover sandwiches from dinner, Jared scrunched his nose up at the bread and peanut butter and said that he’d already eaten.  
  
Colin was locked in his room for the night—a habit that the kid had apparently picked up from living with his nosy, overprotective mother. But it made Jensen feel a little better about having a strange young man sleeping on the couch.  
  
His aunt kept the cabin’s linen closet fully stocked, so Jared was loaded up with more than enough blankets and pillows, especially for a warm, summer night. When Jensen placed them on the coffee table and told Jared he could sleep on the couch, the young man tilted his head curiously as a familiar dark smirk stole over his lips.  
  
“You want me to sleep _here_?”  
  
It was an innocent enough question, although Jensen couldn’t tell if the inflection was real or imagined. He willed himself not to think about how Jared would look in his bed—the boy’s tan skin smoothed out over sky blue sheets, his hair spilled out over Jensen’s pillows—although he failed miserably for a few minutes until he shook himself back to reality and gave the boy a short, gruff, “ _yes_ ,” before he turned on his heels and went to his own room.  
  
He wasn’t sure what he’d just gotten himself into, but the first thing he was going to do in the morning was call Misha. He’d know what to do.


End file.
